Patched up
by isyourcermetgoingtogrow
Summary: Carlisle is sick, but Siobhan is there to make it better...All Human M for language but no smutt
1. Chapter 1

"Siobhan…" We were almost halfway through the night and I realised that was the first time Carlisle had spoken.  
"Hmm?" I glanced over at him but he looked down immediately, hiding his expression from me.  
He hesitated before shaking his head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."  
"Tell me. I'm curious now," I chuckled, teasing him. I reached for his hand under the table.  
He risked a quick glance up at me. "…Can you take me home please?" he asked shyly, his voice almost a whisper.  
I blinked, surprised, but he spoke again before I could answer him.  
"Forget I asked, it doesn't matter." I strained to hear him, he was so quiet, and his voice shook slightly. He started to turn away, but I grabbed his arm.  
"No, of course I'll take you, Carlisle. What's wrong?"  
"…I don't feel well…" That scared me a little; Carlisle _never_ complained about anything, so for him to tell me he was sick without being prompted first was something that never happened.  
"Okay, okay. Come, can you stand?"  
"Yes…I'm just a little dizzy…" he pulled himself to his feet, holding onto the table to steady himself.  
I quickly explained to Tanya what we were doing, wrapping my arm around his waist to support him, before leading him outside. "Where are you keys?" I asked once we were at the car.  
"Pocket," he mumbled, fumbling with them in the pocket of his jeans but managing to hand them to me.  
"Sit." I pulled him around to the other side, unlocking the door and making him sit down. "What kind of not well?" I asked as I started the car.  
"…Dizzy…" he repeated softly.  
"Okay, but nothing else? Do you feel nauseous?" I pressed.  
"…Sort of," he admitted shyly, fidgeting.  
"Tell me if you need to stop, okay?"  
"I'm alright, Siobhan. I just couldn't drive…everything is all off balance." He lent the side of his face against the window, seeming part way asleep.  
I reached over and squeezed his hand, giving him what little comfort I could.

About half way there he gasped quietly, pressing his hand against his stomach and leaning forward slightly.  
"You alright?" I asked cautiously, taking my eyes off the road to look at him.  
He was a lot paler, and his hair was starting to stick to his face so I assumed he had a temperature. "Yes…" he mumbled, but he sounded unsure.  
"Are you going to be sick?" I questioned nervously.  
He shook his head and then squeezed his eyes shut, the movement making the world spin.  
"Okay, but tell me if you're going to be. That's one thing I could live without dealing with."  
Carlisle nodded and swallowed thickly, only adding to my assumption that he would, in fact, puke at some point.

I was overly glad when we reached his flat, relieved to not have to worry anymore about when and if he was going to vomit. He didn't really want to move so I practically dragged him up the stairs and pushed him into bed. I went and found a bucket and stuck it next to him with a glass of water. That was about the limit of my nursing skills.  
He mumbled a thank you and something about having a goodnight and being sorry.  
I rolled my eyes at him when looked up at me. "See you later, okay? Don't die," I instructed.  
He forced a smile as I disappeared out the door.  
Amun picked me up, ready to take me back to the others.  
"You left him by himself?" Tanya scolded as I came over to her.  
"He's not that sick," I grumbled.  
"Yeah, he's an adult. He'll be fine," Amun added.  
"I suppose," she agreed slowly.

The next morning I awoke with the worst hangover I'd ever had, but four glasses of water, two panadol and nine hours sleep later, I realised that Carlisle's keys were still in my pocket from the night before. Shit.  
"Come on, Carlisle," I grumbled, waiting for him to answer his phone. It rang and rang, eventually going to voice mail. Seeing no other option, I begrudgingly made my way to my car, shoving my own keys into the ignition.  
By the time I got to his flat, I was even more irritated than usual, what little alcohol was still in my system making my mood more toxic. My knock on the door was too loud, too rough, but he didn't open it anyway. "Carlisle, open the damn door," I called, knowing he would recognise my voice.  
Still it remained closed.  
"Jerk. It's four in the afternoon," I muttered, using his key to break in. If he wasn't home I could just leave them on the table. As I dropped them onto the wood, I realised the kitchen light was on, which meant he was home, right? Still, it wasn't dark enough for lights, but maybe I'd left it on last night and he hadn't realised yet. I switched it off, only to realise the hall light was on as well. So he was home. He was just ignoring me. I turned that off as well, muttering to myself. "Carlisle? Where are you? I still had your keys-" I cut myself off when I reached his bedroom doorway.

He was in exactly the same position I'd left him the night before, except now he was shaking violently, extremely pale and unconscious.  
"Carlisle- hey, wake up." I shook him awake, my temper dissolving immediately. As I touched him I realised his skin was incredibly hot.  
He stirred slightly, curling up more and sort of hugging his waist.  
"Carlisle…" I knelt beside him, slowly rubbing my hand up and down his back. "Are you okay?"  
He sleepily glanced up at me, not seeming to comprehend what was happening. Suddenly he scrambled away, grabbing the bucket and throwing up violently. His hands trembled so badly I worried that he might drop it, so I took it from him, placing it back on the floor. "Shit," he hissed under his breath, wrapping his arms around himself more tightly. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly.  
"Shh, no, it's okay. Don't be sorry." I hugged him as much as I could without hurting him. "Did you feel this bad last night?" I asked cautiously.  
"…Getting w-worse…" he stammered, wincing as he spoke.  
I sighed, both relieved and scared at the same time. "What am I going to do with you, hmm?"  
He coughed, quickly pressing his hand over his mouth and whimpering softly.  
"It's okay," I tried to assure him. "Do you want to sit up?"  
He shook his head, forcing himself to swallow, and then sort of relaxed again.  
"Have you eaten?" I ran my fingers through his hair, shifting it off his face.  
"…N-not since last night…" he mumbled tiredly.  
"Come on, then. I'll make you dinner." I stood and offered him my hand to pull himself up on.  
He reached for it and started to sit up. "No- No Siobhan I cant…" He froze, biting down hard on his lip until it bled.  
"You have to, Carlisle. I know you feel sick, but you can't starve yourself." I squeezed his hand.  
"No…it hurts…"  
"Shh, okay, it's alright." I sat next to him so when he lay down again his head was in my lap. Once he had, I held the back of my hand against his forehead, startled by his temperature. "Jesus, Carlisle."  
He lent into my touch, the coldness of it soothing.  
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" I reached across and pulled the blanket over him, hoping to slow down his shaking a bit.  
"J-just h-hurts," he stammered, hesitating first.  
"What does?"  
"Everything…"  
I sighed. "That doesn't help me at all, you know." When he didn't elaborate, I gave in. "Do you have a head ache?"  
He nodded, on the verge of going back to sleep again.  
"And your stomach hurts obviously." I rubbed his side, trying to get him to not squeeze himself quite so tightly.  
He squirmed under my touch, not liking the pressure.  
I frowned; I was barely touching him, it shouldn't hurt.

We stayed like that for a while, me desperately wishing that he would go to sleep and him not being able to. He didn't seem relaxed at all, and he still hadn't stopped shaking. Even as it got dark outside and I became tired, he was still awake.  
"Carlisle, you need to relax, or you're never going to get to sleep," I chided gently.  
In response he pulled away from me, leaning over the bucket to be sick. He coughed and choked but there was nothing I could do to help him. He didn't lie back again, but stayed leaning there awkwardly, obviously not comfortable.  
I pushed him back, moving his hair off his face and rubbing his back. "Can you drink for me please?" I asked, pressing the glass of water into his hand and steadying it as he choked it down.  
It only stayed down for a matter of seconds before he threw it all back up again.

I stayed sitting with him well into the night. For the past four hours he'd thrown up at least once every ten minutes, and was completely exhausted. I was wired with worry, but he was in too much pain to sleep.  
"Carlisle?" I ran my hand up and down his back while he fought to catch his breath again. "I'm going to take you to the doctors, okay?"  
He shook his head. "…It's…two in the morning…closed…" he struggled to speak to me.  
"I'll take you to Emergency." I hugged him carefully when he whimpered, letting him lean on me.  
He nodded meekly, allowing me to pull him to his feet. After three steps his legs gave out and I had to quickly push him back onto the bed to stop him hitting the floor.  
"It's okay, we'll try again in a minute, alright?" I knelt in front of him, holding his face in my hands and forcing him to look at me.  
"…I-I cant…I cant move…" The tears that had threatened for so long finally overflowed. To make it worse he was sick again.  
"Shh, okay, it's okay." I handed him the glass again, begging him to drink so he would at least have something in his stomach.  
He looked up at me pleadingly and shook his head, grabbing the edge of the bed to stop himself falling when the action made the room spin.  
"You're already dehydrated," I murmured. "Please?"  
It took him almost ten minutes to force the small amount of water down, but as soon as his stomach cramped again it was all over.  
"Carlisle, I need to take you to a doctor. You are going to have to move," I told him firmly, pulling him up again.  
"…I cant, Siobhan…it hurts too much…" he mumbled.  
"You have to." I tried to get him to come forward but he wouldn't.  
"…cant I just go to sleep?" He was dizzy now, I could tell, and it would only be a matter of time before he passed out or fell.  
"You need this, I'm sorry." I led him toward the door and he sort of stumbled after me.  
He stopped and lent on the doorframe in the kitchen. "I-I cant…"  
"You _have_ to."  
He darted away suddenly, leaning over the sink to throw up again. Blood. He was throwing up blood. Before I could even get to him he slid his back down the cupboard, sitting on the floor and resting his head on his knees. "…I cant…Siobhan…" he pleaded. "It…it doesn't matter…I'll stay here…"  
I hugged him again. His temperature was a hell of a lot higher now, and he looked like he'd had a bucket of water dumped on him. "You need to see a doctor," I persisted quietly. "I have to stop you being sick."  
"Why are the lights on?" he mumbled, leaning on me.  
"Because it's dark," I chuckled at his seemingly pointless question.  
He paused for a moment, wincing as his body tensed. "…Can we go home now?" he asked shyly, sounding scared now.  
"You are home," I chided. Suddenly it clicked. "Oh shit- Carlisle, do you have a thermometer? I need you to think about this, okay? It's important." I sat up quickly, causing him to slide a little.  
Pain flashed across his face from the sharp movement but he didn't answer me, finally beginning to lose consciousness.  
"Carlisle!" I shook him, forcefully rendering him awake. "Answer me."  
He didn't, his fever pushing him past the point of no return.  
"Shit. Fuck. Drink, please. For the love of god drink this and keep it down." I was scared, even more so when he failed to hold the cup by himself. "Carlisle," I whined, pushing his now wet hair off his face. "Don't go to sleep, okay? I'm going to call an ambulance." I ran and found the phone, quickly punching in the numbers. "Don't go to sleep," I repeated, shaking him again. I knew it would have been agony, but it was the only way I could keep him awake.  
After I repeated all the information I had into the phone, the woman on the other end assured me that someone was on their way, but it felt like an eternity until they actually arrived.

"Name?" the man asked, crouching down in front of Carlisle. He shushed me, trying to get him to answer.  
Carlisle shook his head. "…No…"  
"Carlisle Cullen," I told him quietly.  
"When did this start?" he wrote something on a piece of paper.  
"Um… Early last night. I think. I don't know." I bit back tears. "We were out for dinner last night and he asked me to take him home, and then today I got here at about four and he was already vomiting and his temperature was really high, but he's just gotten worse and worse and he can't stand up properly because he's dizzy and it hurts."  
"What hurts?"  
"I don't know- I assumed his stomach, but I don't know."  
"Carlisle, I need you to answer me, buddy," he instructed. "Where are you sore? What's happening now, can you tell me?"  
I watched him struggle to comprehend what he'd been asked. His arms tightened slightly around his waist.  
"Give me your arm, kid; we'll get some fluid into you." He took his hand and pushed up his sleeve, while the other paramedic produced a lure.  
I couldn't watch while they dug for a vein, but Carlisle didn't seem to notice at all.  
They attached a drip to it after forcing some form of pain killer into it, taking his temperature and recording that as well. "You're going to get up now, and we're going to take you into Accident and Emergency, alright?" the man asked.  
He nodded although I wasn't sure he understood, glancing up at me.  
They pulled him to his feet and he swayed unsteadily, threatening to pass out.  
"Will you be coming with him?" he asked me.  
I nodded, reaching for Carlisle's hand.

Three hours later we were sitting in the emergency ward, surrounded by people coughing or sneezing or bleeding or crying. Carlisle was silent, cuddled into my side and resting his head on my shoulder while I sat next to him on the bed. They'd managed to bring down his temperature, meaning he was no longer delirious, and he'd stopped throwing up, but the position he continued to sit in told me he was still in pain. They'd also done multiple blood tests, trying to figure out what was wrong.  
A nurse came in and smiled at us. "Carlisle, love, you have to wake up. We're going to have ourselves a little chat." Her voice was enough to render him conscious again, although only just.  
I slid my arm around his waist, hugging him the best I could.  
"Am I going home?" he asked sleepily, struggling to sit up by himself. He winced like it hurt, giving up to lean against me again.  
"No, most defiantly not," she chuckled. "You need to stay on fluids for at least another twenty four hours," she tapped the IV line with her nail. "And then you can go home after you've kept lunch down for an hour."  
At the mention of lunch he tensed, briefly pressing his fingers over his mouth, before relaxing again. I squeezed his hand, tightening my hold around him slightly.  
The nurse just smiled. "Now, you've managed to confuse everyone a little, but the doctor has diagnosed you with both influenza and the stomach flu, so it's no wonder you're not feeling well. You're also severely dehydrated. We're going to transfer you up to the ward soon, but do you have any questions?"  
"What day is it..?" he asked quietly. At first I thought he was kidding but apparently it was a genuine concern.  
"Sunday," I told him, forcing myself to smile.  
"…I have to go to work tomorrow…"  
"Um, no. No you don't. Even if by some miracle you feel completely fine tomorrow morning, you're not going."  
"But-"  
"Carlisle, you can even stand up, let alone work. No. You're not going," I repeated, trying to scold him.  
He gave up, not caring anymore. "…Thank you…"  
"For what?" I chuckled, resting my cheek on the top of his head.  
"For everything, I guess." He cuddled into me further, attempting to pull his arms away from his stomach to hug me, but he couldn't manage it.  
"Still sore, huh?"  
He bit his lip and nodded, squirming slightly when I touched his side. "…Not as much, though."  
I smiled, unable to resist teasing him a little. "At least you're not speaking shit anymore."  
"Oh god, what did I say?"  
"That's for me to know and you to find out." Granted it wasn't anything embarrassing or something I shouldn't have known, but seeming as I had spent the good part of a day cleaning up his vomit, I was entitled to a little fun.  
He moaned quietly and covered his face.  
"Are you going to be sick?" I asked frantically.  
"It wasn't anything too bad, right?" he glanced up at me.  
I laughed at his panicked expression. "What do you consider bad?"  
"You suck."  
"I suck?" I snickered, waiting for an onslaught of abuse.  
"No, actually, you're the most amazing person I know. You're beautiful and I love you- shit. Fuck." He blushed and looked away. "Can we just put that down to fever or morphine or something..?" he asked quietly.  
"You love me?" I asked, shocked.  
He remained silent for the longest minute of my life. "…Yes…" he whispered shyly.  
"I love you too," I smiled, leaning down to kiss him.  
He jerked away and then hissed in pain. "D-do you want to catch whatever I have?"  
"I don't care, Carlisle, shut up and kiss me."  
He pushed me back again, attempting to get up.  
"Okay, okay, come back here. You owe me though," I laughed, hugging him until he lay down again. "Your temperature has come down some."  
He nodded. "I feel better, sort of."  
"You really scared me for a minute there. I'm sorry I left you alone on Saturday night."  
"It wasn't that bad then; I was alright until the morning," he protested. I could see him getting tired again as another round of drugs kicked in. "It's not your fault."  
I shook my head. "I should have stayed. You were dizzy; you shouldn't have been left by yourself."  
He glanced up at me. "But you're here now."  
I chuckled and kissed his forehead. "I guess so. Maybe next time I stay the night, it won't be because you're sick."  
Again he became red, but managed a shaky smile back. "Maybe not."  
The nurse came in again, disturbing us. "Okay, Carlisle, the doctor is here. You are going up to the ward."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh my, look what I finished finally…after months…TWO STORIES ONE NIGHT. BOOM.**

 **Hopefully its cute but I don't know its getting kind of late**

They had sent me home for the night; apparently "visiting hours were over half an hour ago". I was reluctant to say the least. I stomped down to the bottom floor, calling for a cab and freezing my ass off as I waited for it. Still though, my bad mood evaporated as soon as I sat down in the vehicle as my phone vibrated in my hand, Carlisle's number lighting up the screen.

 _I love you._

The taxi driver kept looking at me in the rear-view mirror, bemused at my sudden change in attitude. It was all I could do not to call him back immediately but I can't imagine anyone on the ward being appreciative of it at this time of night.

The nurse rolled her eyes at me as I came in the next morning – exactly eight o'clock, when the hospital started allowing visitors again. "Carlisle Cullen?" I asked her, trying to be polite.  
She smirked. "The quiet one, right? Room eighteen."  
I tried to decide whether I would attack her for her condescending tone, but in the end seeing Carlisle was more important and getting kicked out would do neither of us any good. A glare would do.  
"Hey."  
He glanced up at me when I spoke, looking more than a little bewildered. "H-hi."  
I sat on the bed next to him, closing his fingers in mine. "Can I kiss you yet?"  
He cringed a little. "I'm gross…you don't even want to be touching me yet…"  
"I don't know about gross, but cute, maybe." Despite his protests I leant forward and kissed his forehead. The action was irresistible; I don't know how he managed to look so adorable while being this sick, but somehow he had. The fact that he blushed when I spoke made him even cuter.  
"I think I'm allowed to go home soon…" he mumbled, quickly changing the subject.  
"That's good. Was it okay here, last night?"  
"Yes…" It was obvious that it was a lie; he looked absolutely exhausted.  
"Hmm," I ran my fingers through his hair, shifting it off his face and holding it there when he leant against it. "Do you want to stay with me tonight? I mean after they let you out?"  
"Why, because you think I can't look after myself?" he countered, managing a shy smile.  
"No, you dipshit. Because I'm your friend and I worry about you," I laughed, moving so I could hug him. "Should I rephrase that, maybe? You're coming home with me and you're going to stay the night. Or I'm coming home with you, whatever you prefer."  
He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. "I don't care. As long as I'm with you."  
"What's got you so clingy?"  
"I don't know…maybe I've had too much morphine, or maybe I'm sleep deprived…or maybe I really like you…"  
"Well, maybe I really like you too," I smiled. His hand tightened around mine but he looked away. "Have you had breakfast, yet?"  
"No…I'm not sure that's such a great idea right now...I definitely wont be cute after that…"  
"Oh, you'll always be cute, trust me, but are you still feeling sick?"  
He shook his head. "Nothing like last night. Just a little…off."  
"And tired."  
"…And tired."  
"I'll take you home and you can sleep as much as you want then." I leant my cheek on the top of his head. He was still very warm, but his temperature had definitely come down.  
"Mummy Siobhan," he teased.  
"Shut up, or I'll make you chicken soup as well." I nudged him with my elbow.  
"Are you going to tuck me in every night too?"  
"You bet."  
"I'm looking forward to it. You know how mothers sleep with people when they have nightmares?"  
"Yes." I knew exactly where he was going with this conversation now. "You want me in bed with you, Carlisle?"  
"Of course not. I was simply suggesting that I may suffer from nightmares and maybe if someone was to sleep with me during the night it would be comforting." He started to laugh toward the end, unable to feign seriousness anymore. "I'm kidding. I do want you in bed with me- not like that," he added, seeing my hopeful expression. "I meant to cuddle."  
"Sure," I agreed sarcastically.  
"Technically, cuddling would be part of it."  
"I thought guys didn't like foreplay," I teased.  
"Well…it depends who with and- why are we having this conversation in a hospital?"  
"You started it."  
"Hey, I'm a patient; I can act as inappropriately as I want and blame it on the illness." He was smiling genuinely now, and I couldn't help but mirror the gesture.  
"Like telling me you love me?"  
"…That wasn't inappropriate…just badly timed…" He was suddenly shy again.  
"It was perfectly time." I kissed his cheek and this time he didn't pull away.

It seemed to take forever, but finally he was allowed to go home. He insisted that we go back to his apartment though, claiming that if he was going to throw up in someone's house, he preferred it to be his. I really didn't care, but I could see his logic.  
"Bed time," I announced the minute we got in the door, pushing him in the direction of his room.  
"Hmm…shower first," he protested, disappearing down the hallway.  
I sat at the table, already knowing the answer to the question before I asked it but wanting to tease him anyway. "Do you need help with that." I heard him stumble and trip, only just restraining my laughter.  
"…I think I'm okay, thanks," he told me unsurely.  
I rolled my eyes and decided to follow through on one of my promises.

"What's all this?" he mumbled as he came back into the kitchen, already half asleep.  
I grinned at him. "I told you I would make you soup, didn't I? It's not chicken, but it's still soup so it has to be good."  
"Thank you…" he sat at the table, leaning forward and folding his arms against the wood and resting his head on them.  
"You haven't tasted it yet," I chuckled, going over to sit beside him. I hugged him the best I could, but he wasn't too responsive and part of me worried that he would fall asleep there. "Carlisle? Go to bed, okay? I'll wake you up after its done; it's still going to take an hour or so."  
"Hmm…kay…" He slowly got up and I supervised him until he was lying down again, immediately curling up.  
"Do you want me to tuck you in?" I teased.  
He offered a weak smile, too sleepy to really comprehend what was going on.  
Once it was cooked, I took two cups of it and sat on the bed, waking him up and handing it to him.  
"You're a good cook," he murmured after a minute.  
"No I'm not. If you think this is good, what on earth is your cooking like?" I teased.  
"I'm good at making toast," he offered, smiling.  
"I'm sure you are." With that we ate in silence for a while until we were both struggling to stay awake.  
"I'm going to…I'm going to fall asleep whether I want to or not…" he told me hesitantly, almost apologetically.  
I laughed and took his bowl off him, not wanting him to drop it. "Lie down." I stuck it on the bedside table and lay next to him, smiling when he pulled the blanket over me and wrapped his arms around my waist.  
"You know, just in case of nightmares."  
"Of course."


End file.
